The Forsythe Companyby JUDITH MACKRELL for the Guardian published: October 13, 2006

As its title suggests, this a work that takes the temperature of war, analysing its physical states rather than turning it into drama. Forsythe's strategy in Study I is apparently to show us every death statistic made flesh, as his dancers are orchestrated into hundreds of flickering freeze-frame tableaux, their bodies flailing, their eyes staring in dread. The only sound during the whole 20 minutes is of animal grunts and panting - Forsythe seems to dare us to find the cumulative effect boring.

Anti-war dance trips over itselfby ZOE ANDERSON for the Independentpublished: October 13, 2006

You have to know what you're looking for to recognise the moment of arrest, the impact of an explosion. Even then, you could miss them. As they bustle from pose to pose, Forsythe's dancers might be a movement class evoking rush hour.

“Focus on Forsythe” at Sadler's Wells and other venues brought examples of the recent work of William Forsythe to arts lovers in London. We have slowly been weaned on Forsythe, starting with short pieces set on the Royal Ballet, moving to the first of several visits of Ballett Frankfurt beginning around a decade ago. Alistair Spalding, Sadler's brilliant Chief Executive, describes Forsythe as, “..one of the greatest living artists...constantly moving forward and expanding the limits of performance...” and here was a chance to sample some of the works from the end of the Ballett Frankfurt era and the first years of its successor, The Forsythe Company.

The opening production, “You Made Me a Monster”, proved to be remarkable and ground-breaking. The one hour performances began with the audience ushered to tables on the Sadler's stage and invited to extend disturbing organic shapes constructed from cardboard. Taking the usual critics' role and wandering around observing the various tables, I noticed a large screen with text moving slowly across: it concerned Forsythe's wife, Tracy-Kai Maier and her worsening health problems. Suddenly a dancer was among us, moving between the tables, taking inspiration from the disturbing shapes and dancing in an obsessive way. Slowly the story of the death of Forsythe's wife developed and two more dancers took turns to personify the tragedy, all moving in the tightly organised framework of Forsythe's deconstruction of dance, with limbs and bodies twisting and exploding in action. The closeness of the dancers, sometimes only inches away, building intensity and involvement.

The ongoing text described how doctors gave Maier was given a clean bill of health following an operation but Forsythe, with his detailed knowledge of the architecture of his wife's body, could see she was slowly bending. Finally we read how the cardboard cutouts, an extraordinary Christmas present two months before Maier's death, were meant to form a full-size model of a human skeleton. Long after her death, Forsythe opened the box and, ignoring the instructions, started assembling the shapes in tortured organic distortions. In the memorable final words from the text - “I realised it was a model of grief.”

With a sound installation picking up and transforming the dancers' voices, “You Made Me a Monster”, proved a visceral experience combining a range of art forms and involving the audience in a sad and sometimes despairing requiem for a supremely talented woman. The world didn't seem quite the same as we emerged from the theatre.

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